


Curses

by castielrisingabove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fantasy AU, Jealousy, Knight!Dean, M/M, witch!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 20:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15589743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielrisingabove/pseuds/castielrisingabove
Summary: Castiel is an honorable witch who'd never dream of cursing anyone. Until Dean.





	Curses

Castiel had always thought of himself as a reasonable witch. He lived alone in a snug cottage in the middle of the woods. The nearest village was an hour away on foot. Castiel didn’t bother them, although he’d dole out healing potions and magic spells to those who asked. He only asked for payment from the rich, they really had no excuse for not paying, and only refused to help when the person in question asked for a curse.

There was nothing Castiel disliked more than curses. Until Dean.

For a while, Dean was Castiel’s favorite customer. Dean started as a humble farmhand from the nearby village; poor, sweet, and  _ so handsome _ . When he batted his big green eyes and asked for a healing potion for his younger brother, Sam, how could Castiel say no? Dean had come by a week later with a bag of flour to thank Castiel, a gift which Castiel refused. Surely, Dean needed the flour, either to eat or sell. Castiel did just fine for himself from what he could forage. Dean left with the flour, looking slightly sad, although Castiel couldn’t figure out why.

A week later, though, Dean was back. Their best cow wasn’t producing enough milk. Castiel happily obliged his request, it was nice to see Dean after all, and once again sent Dean on his way. Soon, Dean became a weekly fixture of Castiel’s life. He needed a spell for good luck. He needed a way to tame a wild horse. He needed a way to increase his defenses. There was no shortage of Dean’s queries.

Castiel happily provided for everything. He loved the sight of Dean, tanned and muscular, wandering down the forest path, and he practically  _ died _ whenever Dean’s face would break into the world’s brightest smile when he saw Castiel waiting. At that point, Dean would inevitably break into a run, scooping Castiel into the tightest hug. In Dean’s embrace, Castiel had often wondered if Dean had a magic of his own. He lit up Castiel’s world in a way the lonesome witch didn’t know was possible.

Or Dean  _ did _ , until he disappeared.

It happened suddenly. There was no warning from Dean, no indication that he’d be leaving, he just left one day and never came back. Castiel waited weeks, then months, but there was no word from Dean. He even left his forest and ventured into the nearby village, something Castiel had  _ never _ done, to ask about Dean’s whereabouts, but nobody knew what had happened to the unassuming farmhand. Castiel grieved, assuming Dean was dead.

He nearly had a heart attack when Dean appeared at his doorstep several months later.

Suddenly, it became clear why Dean had visited so often: he had been using Castiel’s powers for his own gain. No longer a humble farmhand, Dean had swapped out his rags for polished armor, his cow for a strong black horse, and his solitude, which had been replaced with a stunning red-headed woman who followed close behind him. Her name was Charlie. Castiel instantly disliked her.

The routine he’d made with Dean was shattered. Dean did not hug him, he didn’t even dismount as he stared  _ down _ at Castiel and had the  _ gall _ to request another magical spell! That was all he said, just a short demand for Castiel’s magic. And Castiel was caught so off guard that he made his way into his cottage to actually make the spell. Everything was uncomfortable and surprising and awful, but the worst part was when Castiel could hear Dean’s easy banter with Charlie from inside his cottage. A quick peek out his window revealed Dean smiling his bright smiles for Charlie. Dean hadn’t smiled when he saw Castiel. But he smiled for her.

Something dark and bitter curled in Castiel’s chest and he found, rather than search for a spell to keep Dean’s weapons from damage, he was concocting a curse. A curse? Castiel didn’t  _ curse _ anyone, much less  _ Dean _ . Embarrassed, and slightly horrified, Castiel shoved the curse into his pocket, ignoring Dean’s laughter as he crafted the correct spell.

When Castiel emerged from his cottage, Dean’s chatter died immediately. Worse, he could scarcely look Castiel in the eye, his cheeks pink under his stupid helmet. “Did you miss me?” Castiel blurted out, unable to help himself. Dean had been gone so long, and now he was acting so different...Castiel’s loneliness over the past year swelled in his chest as he stared up at Dean and--

“Not really,” Dean grunted, holding out a gloved hand for the spell. He didn’t even look at Castiel, staring a good couple inches above Castiel’s head. 

Castiel’s world crumbled, he was laid low by two small words. Pathetic. Still, in a rush of hurt, Castiel pulled the curse from his pocket, dropping the smooth black stone into Dean’s gloved hand and running back to his cottage. Dean wouldn’t come back for old time’s sake, but he’d come for a spell...which meant after the curse, he wouldn’t come around at all. Castiel tried to pretend that didn’t sting as he tried in vain not to watch Dean ride away.

 

\---

 

Much to Castiel’s dismay, his curse backfired in Dean’s favor. The curse was designed to shatter any weapon that Dean Winchester touched, but Dean, always scheming, had used it to his advantage. Rumor had it that he’d barrelled into a battle and shattered half the enemy’s weapons before anyone could even land a blow. This act of heroism had jettisoned Dean into fame, even the nearby secluded village receive updates of his adventures. 

To Castiel’s surprise, Dean returned to his cottage to ask for another spell. Castiel couldn’t help but notice his new armor: it was engraved with protective runes, meaning Dean had at least limited access to one of the wizards who worked for the King. Wizards, of course, had just as much magical ability as witches, but decided to have a different title to imply their elevated status. Castiel had long ago sworn to never become a wizard, and it bothered him that Dean had gone to them instead of him. Was he flaunting it?

Again, Dean demanded a spell, this time asking to know the future. Again, Castiel provided a curse, Dean could only remember something from the past. And, again, for no good reason, Dean managed to turn that curse into an advantage, rising still further in power, fame and wealth.

Castiel couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about Dean’s rise to the top infuriated him. Maybe it was the fact Dean hadn’t thanked Castiel for the, quite frankly, crucial role Castiel played in Dean’s success. Maybe it was the fact Dean stopped visiting regularly, saving his time for sporadic arrivals filled with callous demands. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that Dean was constantly swarmed with adoring individuals and he found them far more preferable to Castiel’s company. 

The final straw was Dean arriving late one night, Charlie in tow. Dean practically  _ gleamed _ with opulence. His mount bore an extravagant royal bridle, his cape was embroidered with gold and his sword was encrusted with rubies. Castiel couldn’t even keep the sour expression off his face as Dean rode up to Castiel. Dean cleared his throat and Castiel’s scowl deepened. “I need a spell,” Dean said, his eyes trained on the hilt of his sword.

“Of course you do,” Castiel muttered. Even though it was common, now, for Dean to avoid eye contact, the gesture still stung. Castiel took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. “What do you need?”

“A love potion.”

A love potion? _A_ _love potion?_ Dean Winchester, the most wanted man in all the kingdom, wanted a love potion? Who on _earth_ could he not win over simply by smiling at them? The sour feeling curdled in Castiel’s stomach at the thought of Dean sweeping some gorgeous woman off her feet. The thought was so unbearable that Castiel burst out loudly, “A curse upon your head! No woman will _ever_ love you!”

As soon as he said it, Castiel was horrified. Cursing Dean was bad enough, but doing it to his face? Dean was a  _ knight _ now, he could  _ kill _ him. Castiel was so preoccupied with watching Dean’s sword that it took him a good minute to look into Dean’s face. His green eyes were wide, mouth hanging open, cheeks pink. And then Dean relaxed, letting out a shaky laugh. “Thank goodness,” he said breathlessly, “That makes everything so much easier.”

What? 

“I just  _ cursed you _ ,” Castiel said slowly. He kept an eye on Dean’s sword, no doubt Dean would kill him, but Dean didn’t draw the weapon. In fact, he clumsily dismounted, nearly falling off his horse. Dean righted himself, then took a step towards Castiel, who was frozen in space.

“I know,” Dean smiled, taking another step.

“And I’ve cursed you before!” Castiel added.

Dean’s grin widened. “You must not be very good at curses, then. Things have been working out great for me.” He came closer still, until he was almost touching Castiel. “Almost like you  _ meant _ for them to work out great for me.”

He hadn’t...had he? Deep down, Castiel had always known he couldn’t really hurt Dean.

Castiel felt his heart skip a beat. He’d forgotten what Dean looked like up close. True, there was a new scar that slashed across his right eyebrow, but most of him looked the same, from the familiar raised cheekbones to the freckles that dotted across his nose, to those damn pink lips. It was moments like these that had Castiel  _ convinced _ that Dean could do magic, because he couldn’t quite seem to look away from Dean’s mouth.

“Sorry I haven’t gotten to this earlier,” Dean whispered, his breath warm on Castiel’s skin. “Unless…” he faltered, a crease forming in his forehead, “I didn’t ask if you wanted this.”

“Want what?” Castiel squeaked. What  _ he _ wanted was to smash Dean’s mouth against his, but that sure seemed out of the question after cursing him. Dean tugged his helmet off, his hair sweaty and sticking up in all directions. He stepped closer to Castiel (which made Castiel’s heart pound), then stepped away (though that did not slow Castiel’s heart rate), rubbing a hand through his damp hair. The smile faded from Dean’s face and Castiel felt his stomach plummet.

“What am I thinking?” Dean muttered, pacing in front of Castiel. His adam’s apple bobbed as he caught Castiel’s eye, and he darted towards his horse. He ran smack into Charlie’s horse, falling to the ground. Charlie glared down at him.

“ _ No _ ,” she snapped, “I did  _ not _ come all this way to see you lovesick idiots  _ almost _ kiss.”

Castiel burst out a harsh laugh. “He doesn’t want to kiss me!”

Dean scrambled to his feet, his cheeks pink. Castiel’s jaw hung open. For a moment, the two simply stared at one another, then Dean stammered, “Y-yes I do.”

The world felt like it was falling over. Castiel was honestly surprised he could remain upright. “You haven’t spoken to me!”

“I didn’t know  _ how _ ,” Dean rubbed his face with his hands, “I didn’t mean to become a knight, I just wanted your company, but your company meant asking for magic and then suddenly I’d accidentally magicked my way to knighthood. I’d changed so much and I came back, wanting to ask for your hand, but you were...the same. Which was good, it was wonderful, but it made me realize how different I’d become,  and how was I supposed to know if you’d want me--”

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you,” Castiel squeaked, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment. Dean dropped the helmet in shock. Castiel’s heart was pounding like crazy by now, the air seemed electric, then Charlie sent a kick to Dean’s back. Presumably, this was to again nudge him in the direction of Castiel, but unfortunately it simply sent him crashing towards him.

Castiel reacted without thinking, catching Dean in his arms before Dean could hit the ground. Dean looked up with a nervous laugh. “Thought I was supposed to do that sort of thing,” he said, “Bein’ a knight and all.” 

“Guess you’ll have to do it next time,” Castiel replied and, before either of them could lose their nerve again, kissed Dean squarely on the mouth. Maybe Dean was magic, maybe he wasn’t, but Castiel swore that sparks flew when they kissed. 

When Castiel finally pulled Dean back up to his feet, Dean had the biggest grin. He cupped Castiel’s cheek in his hand, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s nose. “I think this is your best curse yet.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Castiel insisted, very concerned Dean misinterpreted how often he’d cursed him.

Dean’s smile widened as he kissed Castiel again. “Guess your kisses are just magic.”

Castiel was a reasonable witch. Even though he left his quiet cottage in the woods to travel with Dean, he still gave away his magics for free to those in need. Well, those in need and Dean. But these days, unlike before, Dean always had something to give in return: turns out he was an  _ amazing _ kisser.


End file.
